Speaking In Hypothetics
by b-mystique
Summary: The Pearson-Hardman Holiday Party is in full swing.Mike's whiny and slightly Scroogy. Donna's buzzed and slightly frisky. But what's wrong with Jessica. What happens when the mentee becomes the mentor. Another exploration of the Jess&Harvey *dynamic*


_**A/N:**__ I personally don't feel this is my best Suits piece; then again I'm not the most confident in general. Honest reviews are welcome…or you don't have to bother if you don't want to. My own subconscious desire to see more Jessica fic and Jessica and Harvey fic is probably the main reason I forced myself to even post it to begin with. LOL! (I continue to find their dynamic fascinating. I don't technically ship them...I just love how wonderfully complex and ambiguous their relationship is.) Anyhoo, wanted to get reacquainted with the characters so that maybe I'll work up the nerve to pay homage to the true writers out there and attempt a multi-chapter fic with these two that requires more than me free styling. I'm rambling. Sorry._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Suits. But I'd like to…it's on my Santa list, along with Harvey wearing nothing but a strategically placed bow underneath my tree. Despite that truly racy image, I haven't been "naughty" I swear. :_ )

~o~

"I still don't understand why I have to be here."

He rolled his eyes as his associate started up again. "Jesus, kid with all the whining you're doing I'm starting to wonder if you can handle sitting at the adult table."

"Well…gee _Dad_, maybe there's hope of you excusing me after all," Mike muttered under his breath sarcastically as he rearranged his tie for the umpteenth time.

"What was that?"

"I thought you said it wasn't mandatory." Mike inquired louder this time, his face petulant and stubborn like a child.

Harvey smirked. He could almost envision a younger Mike, precocious, stubborn, and seemingly as ferocious as a kitten. If he were so inclined to admit it, he'd probably bend to the kid's will out of sheer amusement of the kid's determination. It was almost laughable.

"It's typically optional," he sighed as he brought his drink up to his lips and surveyed the roomful of fellow Pearson-Hardman employees and potential clients.

"So again, why do I-"

"Because I said so." He cut Mike off with finality and a small smirk pulled at his lips as he watched the kid's face fall into a pout. Really. A pout. There wasn't a day that went by when Mike didn't remind him of how old he was getting. "I do find it interesting however…"

"What?" Mike replied through gritted teeth as he tried in vain to loosen the collar of his button down.

"This…you," he motioned at their surroundings, expensive Holiday decorations surrounding them, before gesturing towards Mike. "I had you pegged as a holiday type."

"I am a holiday type," Mike replied haughtily. He got a faraway glint in his eye and a small smile broke out onto his face. "I'm quite the holiday type actually." The smile quickly vanished as he looked around the room. "It's_ this_ I don't like. I don't like Christmas parties…"

Louis suddenly cleared his throat obnoxiously and glared at Mike.

"I mean _Holiday_ parties," Mike corrected, shrinking under the death glare Louis shot at him before the Junior Partner disappeared onto the dance floor. "God, he's like a Christmas Nazi."

"You do realize that was vaguely racist-"

"Yeah just realized that-"

"-but trust me, that's not the worst of it. Louis has only had three drinks so far. One more glass of Norma's spiked Nog and he'll be singing the Draedel song and ready to fight anyone who so much as mentions Christmas. Mark my word. He's small but he's scrappy." Harvey chuckled at the look of wonderment on the kid's face at the mere thought and tried his best not to actually laugh.

"See? I'm not cut out for this! Social networking with people I hate during the day, and hate even more when they become their alcohol induced selves at night. Wearing fancy clothes…" Mike clawed at his tie again before finally ripping it from around his neck and stuffing it in his pocket.

"That godforsaken ensemble hardly constitutes as 'fancy'," he deadpanned.

"I'd much rather be at the shelter," Mike muttered, ignoring his mentor and getting momentarily distracted by the tight fitting black dress that Rachel was sporting , on the other side of the room.

"Really? They haven't put you down yet?" he quipped with a sly smile. "Or at the very least neutered you?" he went on, following the kid's gaze.

Mike sighed, shooting a rather pathetic attempt at a deadly glare at Harvey, "The _homeless_ shelter," he further explained. "I pass out food to the needy during the Chr-"he heard Louis clear his throat from his place by the food buffet. "-during the _Holiday_ season."

"Now I did peg you as a bleeding heart." He tried to keep the respect and pride from seeping through, but he suspected the kid picked up on it anyhow, as Mike's trademark smile was suddenly gracing his boyish features.

His eyes wondered around the room, taking in the sights. There were first year associates huddled up at the bar, bright eyed and far too relaxed than they should have been at a work function. A couple of the other partners were schmoozing some of the potential clients. The secretaries were cackling away in a corner, seemingly studying people just as he was. He rested on Jessica. She was wearing a formfitting navy blue gown that hugged each of her curves in all the right places. It plunged dangerously low in the back, just enough to be sexy, exposing smooth caramel skin, but not low enough to be considered indecent. Her hair was swept up in a bun, save for a couple of tendrils that framed her face. She was extending her hand, firmly shaking the hand of a tall gentleman. He smiled; watching Jessica close deals was almost mystical. She did it with ease, finesse, and class. Two of which he himself learned from her. The latter…not so much.

"Umm, hey Donna."

His associate's voice caught his attention and the subject of whom the kid had been speaking to appeared before them like a whirlwind. The feisty red-head stopped before him, her face flushed and eyes bright. She was elegant in a green dress that complemented her pale complexion and her lustrous red hair, which was swept to one side and fell over her slender shoulder.

"Did you two kiss yet? If so…please reenact it, I hate to miss these things," she cooed with a dazzling smile as she raised a brow at both Harvey and Mike.

"Are you drunk?" Mike asked slightly incredulous.

Donna snorted, and exchanged a "what's with this kid?" expression with Harvey before resting her eyes on Mike again. "No, not that it concerns you," she answered smarmily.

"Slightly buzzed then?" Mike tried again, narrowing his eyes and scrutinizing her.

She gave a curt nod before avoiding the question. "Enough about me. Have you two kissed yet?" she nodded her head upward towards the mistletoe dangling over the two men.

His eyes followed hers and he cringed. Damn Jessica and her giving Donna decoration duty. The woman was a wizard with every nauseatingly tedious Christmas/Hanukkah detail. Lights, Menorahs, dancing snowmen, the mail boy dressed as Santa Clause…and of course, mistletoe. He clenched his jaw and let out a sigh as his eyes glided over to the kid, who actually had the nerve to look as though he was contemplating such a notion. He furrowed his brow and shook his head disapprovingly.

"Don't even think about it," he warned in a scathing tone that made Donna chuckle.

"I'm a Traditionalist when it comes to the holidays Harvey; somebody has to kiss, "Donna sing-songed.

"If you were a Traditionalist you wouldn't expect me and Mike to," he glowered. "Have at it kids."

He motioned to his associate and his secretary and barely hid his amusement at the way Mike choked on his drink and his eyes bulked out. Donna turned her nose up, but didn't seem to object. He surmised she was definitely at the very least "buzzed".

"If I slip you tongue…I will kill you," she threatened with narrowed eyes.

"Don't you mean if _I_ slip you tongue, you'll kill me?" Mike squeaked as she snatched his collar up in her tiny fist.

"No if _you_ slip me tongue, he'll kill you," she nodded her head in Harvey's direction and smiled devilishly.

"She's right. I will kill you."

He finished off the last of his drink and looked on with amusement as Mike's mouth dropped open in shock and Donna planted one on him. She pulled away with a predatory grin and pinched Mike's cheek.

"Not bad kid. Not quite to my standards but we can't all be like me now can we?" She winked at Harvey, eyed the growing crowd on the dance floor before tugging at Mike's shirt. "C'mon kid, let's dance. But if you step on my feet or so much as scuff these shoes you won't make it to the New Year."

Mike turned to look at Harvey pleadingly, but he merely smirked at the kid, before leaning in to whisper, "She's only had a glass of wine so far. If you see her stand on top of the piano with Norma to sing a duet of "Santa Baby" _then_ you have problems." He patted the kid on the back, bemused at the downright petrified expression on Mike's face as Donna carted him off onto the dance floor.

He looked back to where he last seen Jessica, but she had since vacated her previous spot. His eyes roamed around until he finally rested on his mentor and friend, sitting at a table alone. She looked disconnected from her surroundings, distant from the bustling and liveliness of the room. He frowned, before drifting over towards her and stopping in her line of sight.

She didn't acknowledge that she even seen him, for an awkward five seconds, and a small twinge of concern was eating away at him. He was just deciding to approach her with genuine concern over their usual verbal sparring and banter when she spoke.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" She said softly.

It wasn't quite right. She didn't sound quite like herself, but he sensed that she was making an effort to at the very least throw him off, so he chose to go with her for the time being. "True. The pleasure is in fact yours."

She snorted softly and her lip pulled up in a ghost of a smile, but it still wasn't the reaction he typically got.

"But why don't you do me the honor of dancing with me?" He gave a small bow for a dramatic effect before holding out his hand. His eyes boring into her deep brown ones.

"Uh huh. Very funny," she responded with a slight smile that still didn't reach her eyes. "Since when do you dance?" She raised a brow at him, and her voice held just a touch of sarcasm.

"I always dance with the prettiest chick in the room."

"Chick?"

"Woman." He amended with a shrug as he grabbed her hand and guided her towards the dance floor.

"I never said yes."

"You never said no either," he argued lightly as his fingers entwined with hers. He wrapped his arm around her waist, his other hand splaying across the smooth, soft skin of her bare back. She shivered beneath his touch and he pulled her closer to him as they swayed around the dance floor.

"I might have said no," she said softly, her warm breath tickling his ear. He didn't respond for a moment, as they swayed back and forth to the band. He hummed in her ear, dazed by the scent of sweet amber emanating from her neck and how warm her flesh felt beneath his palm.

"You never say no." He responded finally. He felt her body tense up a bit beneath his touch, but he pushed them forward. He was mostly joking, but he knew it was a touchy issue for her. He was aware of her internal struggles with how she handled him, often times questioning her judgment, whether she was too lenient with him or perhaps favored him too much. Most days, contrary to what she may have believed, he tried not to make it more difficult for her than it already was. "I'm surprised you let me lead." He smirked when he felt her deliberately step on his foot.

"That's only because you're incapable of following," she said quietly.

There was a hint of humor in her voice, but still…it still wasn't what he was accustomed to. He pulled away from her now, determined to see her face. Jessica was always hard for him to read. Like him, she hid behind a certain air of confidence and sarcastic humor. Despite a decade and a half of working closely with her, years of actually spending time with her outside of the glass walls of Pearson-Hardman, she still was an enigmatic creature who remained a mystery to him. His eyes bore into hers, studying her, trying his best to discern what was troubling her…_if_ something was troubling her. He felt her squirm beneath his intense gaze, even though she appeared distracted, and again, distant. He opened his mouth to say something but was startled by the robust man clapping him on the back.

"If it isn't Harvey Specter! I've heard great things!"

He froze for a moment, before plastering on his most charming grin, as he turned to shake the hand of Mr. Monroe. They had been trying to court the man for months. He sensed Jessica slip away from his side, but he was forced to engage in a twenty minute conversation with the infamous corporate big wig and his barely legal wife. It fortunately ended in a verbal deal being set, a half a million dollar account being closed and promises of signed paperwork to "make it official" come Monday.

He politely slipped away from the aging man and scanned the room for Jessica but she was nowhere to be found. He winced from the mic's feedback as Louis failed miserably at wrestling the microphone from the likes of Norma and Donna, while Mike looked on awestruck and thoroughly entertained. He wandered discreetly around the room, before stopping in front of a slightly ajar door that lead into the dark, unused ballroom next door.

The room was huge, with a dozen or so windows decorating the walls. He blinked his eyes a few times until he was able to adjust to the darkness. He finally spotted a dark silhouette across the room, slightly bathed in the moonlight piercing through one of the full length windows. He walked slowly towards her, as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his jacket, before finally stopping beside her, resting himself against the other window pane, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"You know…"he started, leaning in towards her with a smirk. "If the boss finds out we're skipping out on this optional/mandatory Christmas/Holiday party, she'll have our heads."

She gave a ghost of a smile from what he could see. He was forced to work with her profile, as she stared out at the skylines. "Maybe she was trying to cut back on the budget. Holiday party. Team building exercise. Client networking. Killing a few birds with one stone," she replied quietly. "Although, I have heard she can be a real bitch."

"Only sometimes…" he said with a smug expression. Her dark eyes flickered towards him and he raised a challenging brow at her. "Especially when she hasn't had her coffee.

"I heard that was only a myth."

He snorted to himself, slightly mollified by how easy she ventured into their customary banter. He decided to tell her the good news. She always thought he reveled in being able to add another accomplishment to his list because he was cocky and competitive and loved bragging to her. He wouldn't argue otherwise, but deep down, he still sought her approval too. A small part of him still felt an inexplicable jolt of joy at knowing that in those brief seconds after telling her that he landed a new client for them or closed another deal, that she was genuinely proud of him. He lived for those moments, because all of these years later, he'd argue that he didn't care about what anyone thought about him. The truth was that, her opinion was the only one that ever mattered; her approval was the only one he consistently sought out. She was the only one he never wanted to disappoint or let down.

"I hooked Mr. Monroe," he said with a satisfied smirk. He rested his head against the windowsill and stared at her. "A half a million dollar deal."

He couldn't conceal the pride and joy in his voice. He studied her for a reaction, a hint of a smile that twinkle in her eye. Anything really. She gave a quiet humming noise as she continued to stare at the city lights, etching lines into the condensation clouding the window with her finger.

"Jess-"Harvey started, his voice finally unveiling the concern he was feeling.

"Congratulations Harvey," she said quietly. "Good work." She tilted her head to face him head on, giving a tight smile in hopes of assuaging him; she tried to make her voice light for good measure. "The boss is very, very pleased."

"I wouldn't know," he said, his voice low and serious. "I've barely seen remnants of her this evening."

Her eyes met his for a long moment, she appeared thoughtful. He swallowed, but otherwise refused to break eye contact with her. He clenched his jaw and prompted her response with his raised brow. "I'm sure she'd say you're too perceptive for your own good."

He canted his head to the side, rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, and watched her weary form retreat under his penetrating gaze. "What's wrong Jessica?"

"Nothing." She replied too quickly, her voice cracking as she avoided his gaze, her eyes resting somewhere over his shoulder.

"Bullshit." He snapped back forcefully. His tone had its intended effect; she brought her eyes back to his, but only managed a small sigh. "Hey..." he said softer now, trying to insert lightheartedness into his voice. "You know you can't lie to me."

"Actually I can," she snapped back.

"Yeah…actually you can," he shrugged. "But it's in bad forum for the hostess to be missing out on her own shindig. Maybe we should get her back out there. I'm sure the boss lady's presence is missed."

"Now, _that's_ bullshit," she responded rather harshly.

Her tone of voice startled him. For the first time in a while he didn't quite know how to respond. He furrowed his brow, glaring at her, trying his best to break her down, figure her out. She must have felt his worried vibes, as she sighed and begin to speak.

"She's never missed, Harvey," she said with a humorless grin. She went on before he could argue otherwise. "She isn't supposed to be. It's one of the consequences. Socializing with 'underlings' doesn't exactly fall into the job description."

"And yet, that's one of things I respect most about her," he said thoughtfully, piercing her with his eyes. "She's never been a conventional leader. She never would consider those working with her as 'underlings'. She respects everyone…and therefore they respect her."

"Perhaps," she said quietly. She broke her eyes away from the icy glass and gave him a condescending smile, before finding that place over his shoulder again. She shivered, and before his mind caught up to his actions he slipped his suit jacket off and gently wrapped it around her shoulders, skimming the fine goose bumps rising on her soft skin. "Thank you."

"Jessica, "he sighed. "Are you alright? And why, might I ask, are we speaking in third person? I thought you said…"

"Only jackasses do that." She finished with a smirk. It was close to her usual one and it put his slightly frazzled mind at ease. "What if she doesn't know if she wants to do this anymore?"

He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he narrowed his eyes at her. Searching for where she could possibly be going. They always danced around topics, skirted around anything that may lead to casting down the hard armor they both wore. He realized why he was so unsettled by her vibes that evening. She was vulnerable, slightly exposed, and that left him on edge. He wasn't accustomed to a vulnerable Jessica, a reflective Jessica. She was unpredictable in this state, which meant he didn't know where she could be-

"The job. What if she isn't sure if she's where she wanted to be?"

He let out a nervous sigh, before relaxing a bit, studying her further. "I've never known you to be anywhere you didn't want to be."

"What if that's the problem?" She whispered quietly, her voice sullen, eyes still looking down at all the people and cars like ants, stories below them. "Sometimes I think she…" her voice trailed off as he touched her arm and cocked his brow at her. "Sometimes I think _I_ spent so much time trying to get to where I thought I wanted to be…and sometimes I'm not so sure if it's where I wanted to be to begin with. I'm not sure if I missed out on too much in an effort to get there."

Her voice was soft and childlike, he felt a small twinge in his heart at how lost she sounded. She was a mentor, the woman he admire and respected. The woman he oftentimes forgot was human. She didn't do sharing, opening up, exposing herself to others. She didn't do confiding, and if so she certainly never did with him. It was abnormal in general for this to happen, but if it did, it was typically the other way around. He clenched his jaw, tentative as to how he should respond, genuinely uncomfortable with how to react to this uncertain territory.

"I'm where I thought I wanted to be in my life," she went on in a resigned tone, hugging his jacket tighter around her frame. "But what if I don't have anything to show for it? No friends-"

"Hey, I'm your friend," he replied, his tone snappier than he intended. He was reluctant to admit that her oversight was a minor blow to his sizeable ego.

"-most of them only call when they want or need something. No family of my own-"

"Spouse?" He inserted with a sly smirk. He felt the weight of her stare upon him, as she distinguished the slight curiosity lacing the humor.

"I'm being serious here, and you're still trying to be nosy?" She sighed in mild agitation, and he smiled to himself, knowing that he was finally breaking through.

"Not 'nosy', 'perceptive', your word not mines," he gave her an arrogant smirk. He leaned in towards her, invading her personal space just a little bit more as his arm faintly brushed against hers.

"Fine. No spouse either. The point is, in my quest to get where I am I…"she inhaled softly, biting her lip before breaking eye contact with him and finding some comfort in the happenings outside. "I never realized that by the time I got to the top it would be so-"

"Lonely?" He offered up softly, clearing his throat, now taking his turn avoiding her intense gaze.

She shifted awkwardly beside him, before answering with forced confidence. "Actually, I was going to say unfulfilling."

"So what are you saying, you aren't fulfilled?" He asked suddenly. His voice was laced with agitation. The Jessica Pearson he knew didn't half-ass anything; the thought of her not honoring herself by being happy was not only unfathomable but disheartening.

"I'm saying sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I chose another path. If I didn't spend so much time doing my job, if I didn't earn my own firm at the expense of other valuable things in life," she said forcefully, frantically.

Her tormented eyes met his and she jutted her chin out in defiance, determination. He fought back a smug expression at finally pulling out some remnants of the woman he'd know for so long.

"I'm here now, but what if I don't have anything to show for it? Twenty years of hard work, and honestly, Harvey, what do I have to show for it?"

His expression hardened, he gritted his teeth, at the absurdness of her questioning, but bit back the unbridled irritation that was growing in the pit of his stomach, and settled for his trial expression. Cool. Confident. Firm.

"You have the firm, Jessica. You have your name on the door. It took you years to earn that."

She barked out a bitter laugh. He felt her body tremble beside his. "Harvey, there's no permanency in having your name on the door. It's interchangeable. In another five or ten years it can be somebody else. _I'm_ interchangeable, disposable."

"Not to me." He ground out through clenched teeth.

Her breath hitched and her expression was indiscernible before she smiled a bittersweet smile. They fell silent for a moment, her deliberately avoiding his gaze and looking out the window, him scrutinizing her profile with his fiery glare.

"What exactly brought this on Jess?" he said pointedly, his patience slowly wearing thin. "Didn't I warn you about reading too much into those yearly updates in Christmas cards?" he inserted more of their usual humor in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Do you know what's going to happen in 2016, Harvey?"

"I'm pretty sure, a presidential election, maybe the summer Olympics...I know I appear to be all knowing, but without my little crystal ba-"

She interrupted him with light chuckle, looked into his eyes with amusement, and that feeling of pride swelled up in him at being able to make her laugh again. She shook her head, "Hardman is retiring…handing off his share of the firm. That'll be it."

He paused in momentary shock, but tried to school his expression, aware of the way she was studying him. "Okay. We'll throw him a nice Bon Voyage…" he posed it as a question.

"Nearly forty years he spent building up his career," she went on, ignoring him. Her voice took on that resigned tone again, and shifted uncomfortably, agitated that he was being pulled on a rollercoaster ride of emotions. "Forty years it too him to make a name for himself, build up this firm, and I guarantee you that in another ten years or so he'll barely be a footnote in some law book."

"Jess-why is this bothering you so much?"

"What if that's me?" she shouted, wincing at her own voice, before lowering it an octave. "What if that's me? What if everything I worked towards doesn't matter? I mean, I'm just a nameplate on the door in the end. It changes every few years. You know he doesn't even have kids? No family of his own…no-_legacy_-to leave behind. Thompson-Hardman became Pearson-Hardman. Pearson-Hardman becomes Pearson-Specter."

"Pearson-Specter?" he canted his head to the side intrigued, his hands still shoved into pockets as he watched the slow smile spread on her face.

"Oh shut up Harvey! It's not like you didn't see that coming!" She shoved him in the shoulder and bit her lip to keep from laughing. She couldn't hide it from him though. He could see the laughter in her eyes.

"Oh no Jessica, I seen that coming," he gave her a cocky grin. "It's the name I have issues with. I'm thinking more Specter-Pearson."

"What happened to ladies first?" she countered, arching her brow at him, her lips twitching in a hint of a smile.

"Yeah, right. Since when have you known me to be a gentleman?" he scoffed. "Besides, I've seen you drink Louis under the table at every Super bowl party…you're hardly a lady."

"You're an ass."

"I'm _your_ ass," he amended quietly, his voice turning more serious. "You want to know what type of legacy Hardman will leave behind? He'll leave behind you, Jessica." He leaned towards her to punctuate the words, his eyes never leaving hers.

"And so…what? I leave behind-"

"Me." Harvey finished for her, with an arrogant grin. "I'd like to think that's enough for you…but, you still have time…for other things." He said more seriously.

"I'm not responsible for you, Harvey," she said knowingly, flashing him a piercing look that made him feel as though she were looking through him. "And I never want to be responsible for you feeling-like this- feeling as though you missed out on something or-"

"You..." he shifted awkwardly before gazing out the window, averting his eyes from hers. "…gave me everything."

"You were destined for greatness," she said in a serious tone pausing until his eyes met hers again. "_Harvard._" she said with a knowing smirk.

"Hey! Nobody else knows about that," he whispered in false annoyance. "We're supposed to keep that between you and me. _Harvey_ will suffice."

She chuckled softly and he joined her, feeling infinitely more at ease as she seemingly shifted back to the woman he was comfortable with.

"The plight of modern feminism." She met his gaze with a question in her eyes, so he went on. "Women now struggle with ever feeling fulfilled because they're expected to wear so many hats. They can't settle for just being career driven, otherwise they feel as though they're neglecting some inherent expectation that they have to be wives and mothers too…and they can't merely settle for being a wife and mother, without seeming anti-feminist by not pursuing a career. So they try to juggle everything, or like you, spend time questioning themselves over their decisions."

Her face was a question mark, both awestruck and slightly perturbed. He chuckled.

"Donna. Donna knows all."

"Yes she does," she agreed, laughing. "I guess we can't always get what we want."

He furrowed his brow, staring at her intently, her stance became more relaxed, and she was less resigned, and her eyes sparkled again, until she met his gaze and something flickered through them so quickly that he couldn't quite make out what it meant.

"I can't believe that," he said quietly. She raised her brow at him, slightly curious, he presumed, over the shift in his tone. He sighed, before stepping closer to her, grabbing her shoulders in his hands and looking intently at her. "Any regrets Jessica? Do you have any regrets? Would you change anything at all?"

He couldn't figure out her facial expression at all, but after a long moment and a shaky breath, she averted her eyes and sighed. "No. I wouldn't."

He blinked and cleared his throat, breaking the undercurrent of electricity simmering between them. Before her realized it, his arm came up to rest on her shoulder. "I guess you're good then," he said with a small nod, and a ghost of his usual smile. "He looked over at her and then out the window before them, across the street at the building that housed their firm. He nodded in its general direction. "I gotta say…not bad for a sassy broad from Brooklyn," he said with a smirk. He cast a wary glance in her direction, his body tensing for another punch to the shoulder or one of her icy glares.

She narrowed her eyes at him but a slow smirk pulled at her lips. "Not bad, for a snarky bastard from the Bronx," she responded with a touch of sarcasm.

He snorted in amusement. After a while he sighed, hesitant to relinquish his hold on her but suspecting it was appropriate to do so. His arm fell from her shoulders and he went back to shoving his hands in his pocket. "So…"he started, struggling to keep a straight face. "Is it safe to say your mid-life crisis has been diverted?"

"That was not a mid-life-"

"Was so and you know it!" He countered looking smug. "It was a midlife crisis…and you actually ended up confiding in me. How's that for role-reversals."

Her eyes flicked away, he wasn't certain but he thought he seen a soft blush inflame her cheeks as she cleared her throat, embarrassed. "Fine. But mine was…you know, real. Yours was as idiotic as most men's."

"I did not have a-"

"Yes you did!" she shot back through laughter.

"I'm too young for a midlife crisis," he disagreed stubbornly, trying to maintain his air of cool indifference.

"You don't recall that week where you were dressing differently and actually went out and bought a motorcycle?"

"That wasn't a mid-life crisis that was a bet I lost to Louis."

"What bet?" she practically shrieked, giving him the look she normally gave him when she was playing mediator between him and Louis. He fought off a smile, because it was the last thing that made him know for certain that she was okay.

"Never mind," he said with a wink. He watched her jaw clench tightly before she gave up and turned away from him shaking her head. "What do we say we ditch the party, head to that restaurant you like so much for drinks and a late dinner? Your treat."

"My treat?" she replied almost incredulously. "How's that?"

"You make more for starters," he began, ticking off a reason on his hand. "And of course, I'm a lawyer not a shrink, so I expect to be compensated for my sage advice. Besides, consider it my Christmas bonus," he joked teasingly.

"Holiday," she corrected, rolling her eyes at him.

"Speaking of, what are you doing for Christmas?" He offered casually, staring intently out the window and avoiding her curious gaze.

"Are you inviting me to spend Christmas with you again?" she asked almost incredulously, at his pathetic and not so subtle attempt at looking out for her.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "It wasn't that bad last time."

"As if I don't get enough of you at work…" she mused out loud, laughter in her voice.

"Oh please, you never get enough of me. We both know that," he scoffed quirking his brow at her self-assuredly.

"You aren't going to attempt to cook again are you?" she asked suddenly, her eyes wide in mock horror.

"That was one time!" he muttered defensively.

Her easy laughter tinkled in the empty room, and that warm feeling he typically got around her encompassed him. They were back to where they typically were, easy, feisty, different edges of the same sword, seeking out the humor in everything over the alternative of delving too deep into things they'd best leave buried.

"I…have great plans that don't involve me cooking."

"Like what?" She asked incredulously, daring him to lie to her.

"Working at a shelter…feeding the homeless," he said blinking profusely, as he thought of his associate.

"Oh please, Harvey, since when do you feed anybody? Let alone the homeless!" she quipped dubiously.

"A while," he shrugged, breaking eye contact with her and trying to suppress the small tug at the corner of his lip. He felt her dubious gaze, could envision that brow of hers arched up, a non-verbal challenge to what he was saying. "It's a recent development."

"Uh huh," she muttered condescendingly, as they both shook their heads at one another, falling into a comfortable silence.

"Thank you,"she said quietly. For always being honest with me when it matters."

She didn't look at him directly, and he was grateful for it. A morbid sense of guilt was ebbing away at him. The same guilt that had been slowly eating away at him for months. He silently prayed that she wouldn't pick up on it.

"For the record," she broke the silence and despite her smile she sounded serious. He felt himself stiffen as he leaned against the windowpane and faced her, prompting her with his smile. "This…" she waved her hand around for emphasis. "Me...Our conversation-"

"It never happened." He murmured quietly, understanding in his eyes. She was close enough to him where he could feel her contented sigh, her body becoming more relaxed. Their eyes locked, deep brown eyes meeting brown ones. "Just another thing we'll keep between us."

She let out a shaky breath and hummed in agreement and he smiled to himself. They were good at that. Keeping things between themselves, keeping things_ from_ themselves, keeping things from each other. Over the years they stored away quite a bit of buried secrets, words they said and tried to take back, moments they didn't want to explain or acknowledge, secrets and emotions so transparent to the other but never breached, never exposed, simmering just below the surface. Some days he wondered if they'd ever uncover their buried chest, expose all of the trinkets tucked away.

She straightened her stance, pushed her shoulders back, and held her head high, fell into that respectable superiority that always seemed to encompass her. With one last sigh, she shrugged out of his suit jacket, startled him again with bare skin and that deep blue that complemented her complexion so well. She handed the jacket to him. He gave her another friendly grin, as the warmth of her hand somehow found its way to his jawline. It stayed there briefly, gone far too soon for his liking, as she turned her back to him and sauntered towards the door.

"Where are you going?" He called after her, canting his head to the side as she paused a few feet away from him. He noted the distance between him now, missing the warmth that she had provided in the midst of their talk. "What about dinner?"

"Somebody has to make sure everyone leaves on time, cabs have to be called, cleaning has to be done," she responded with a reasonably resigned sigh.

"C'mon Jessica…you have people to handle that for you…" he gave her his most charming smile, manipulation and his good looks never really worked on her, but it didn't stop him from trying.

"You're right Harvey…" she said as a slow smile crept on her face. "I have you." She laughed fully now, most likely in victory, as she turned her back to him again and walked towards the door. "I'll give you an hour." She said over her shoulder as she slipped out of the room.

He chuckled lowly to himself, as he shook his head and put his jacket back on, adjusting the sleeves and buttoning the buttons before shoving his hands in his pockets again. The smell of her still lingered, embedded in the fabric, tickling his noise and giving him a warmth that made up for the draft seeping through the window.

He didn't need an hour. A devilish smile pulled at his lips, and he walked confidently towards the door, with purpose…and a mission. He didn't need an hour of playing clean-up committee. He had Mike.

~o~o~o~


End file.
